Driven To Distraction
by Jessie Shockey
Summary: A very Matahari-esque Quatre has a little fun at Treize's expense. (13x4)


Driven to Distraction   
  
AC 194  
  
Quatre sighed and dipped his fingers into his glass, pulling out a cube of ice that he raised to his overheated brow. This recent heat wave had been something like torture after nearly fourteen years of life on a climate controlled colony. The others were quite used to it by now, truly seeming to thrive in the hot, dry climate, but he had felt it necessary to rent a flat in the city. One with air-conditioning.  
  
Why he had felt possessed to leave the cool comfort of the apartment and make a shopping excursion on the hottest day of the year, he had no idea. The marketplace was crowded and dusty, seeming to amplify the heat even more. Quatre slid the ice cube down the side of his face to cool the skin at his throat. He shivered with delicious cold and closed his eyes, almost imagining that he could feel just the barest hint of a breeze.   
  
The bright light visible even behind his eyelids dimmed, and Quatre looked up to see what had gotten between him and the sun. Two young men were unfurling a length of heavy canvas that had been hidden somewhere below the eaves of the little cafe's roof. Quatre heaved a huge sigh of relief. /Shade./ Shade was a wonderful thing.   
  
When the boys had done their task, Quatre motioned them over and gave them a few credits each, smiling winningly at the younger of the two, a boy hardly older than himself. The boy took the chips and thanked him, smiling nervously at Quatre.   
  
"Could you please bring me another lemonade?" Quatre asked in perfect Arabic. The boy seemed a little startled to hear his own language spoken so well by someone with such a pale countenance, but he quickly nodded in reply and dashed back into the tiny building, pocketing the chips as he went.   
  
As Quatre settled back to wait for his drink, his eyes drifted across the sea of people that covered the small square. There was a small group of Bedouin merchants on the corner, heckling passersby to stop and examine their wares. A little further along, a tiny old woman sat making pots out of clay. The finished product was piled around her feet, on display. And near her there was a large man who looked a little like Rashid might, without his beard, selling jewelry. Quatre had already made the stop, today. And then there was that melon seller who always set up by the North Road...Perhaps he would stop there on his way out of town.  
  
Quatre turned his head a little to the left and tracked the progress of a rickety old bus with his eyes. It was belching rude black smoke from its tailpipe, so thick that it obscured the street behind it.   
  
As the smoke cleared, his attention was arrested by a tall, handsome figure that it had momentarily hidden from view. The man was young, perhaps in his early twenties, and very well dressed. He was just as pale as Quatre himself, likely European, and he was holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth in a vain attempt to keep out the dust and exhaust that were so heavy in the air of the crowded market.   
  
The man coughed once into his handkerchief before folding it in his hands and returning it to his pocket, allowing Quatre to glimpse his entire face for the first time. Fine ginger hair framed a handsome face, delicately featured, yet somehow retaining an inherent sense of masculinity. A pair of piercing blue eyes met his across the crowded market, and Quatre realized with a flush that he had been caught staring.  
  
Just then, the boy who had helped to raise the canopy returned with his lemonade. Quatre smiled at the boy and took the glass, stirring it once before lifting the spoon and tilting it just so to catch the reflection. The gentleman -for gentleman he surely was, from the way he carried himself- was now crossing the crowded street toward the cafe where Quatre sat. His strides were long, as befit his stature and apparent natural grace, but they were at the same time strangely clipped, as if he were used to--  
  
/--marching--/  
  
That was it! He was an officer in the Alliance military. Quatre felt ashamed that he had not realized it sooner. Treize Khushrenada of the up-and-coming Specials unit, the group he had decided he would have to watch closest, in the near future. He had even met Treize before, once, long ago. Granted, he had been only eight years old at the time, and it had been just for a moment-- One of those frightfully dull parties his father had insisted he attend. But why would such a man be /here?/ Had their base been discovered? Certainly such a high ranking officer would not have made the journey without the promise of high rewards. If his men and his mission were in danger...He needed to find out all he could.  
  
He watched as the reflection drew nearer, twisting and distorting the image out of shape. As Treize approached him from behind, he dropped the spoon back into his glass, pretending to be caught unaware.  
  
"Excuse me," he said, politely, his Arabic somewhat less than perfect, but still quite passable, "May I sit here with you? All the other tables are full."  
  
For a moment, Quatre felt as the young waiter must have when he had ordered his drink. Why would such a man have learned his native tongue? He pondered this even as he replied, "Of course," He answered brightly, in Universal. "Be my guest."  
  
Treize smiled gratefully and settled beside him, waving for a waitress, who came running. Apparently, word of Quatre's enthusiastic tipping had already spread among the staff. Or perhaps the sight of the two young men, each devastatingly beautiful in his own way, had been its own motivating force.   
  
Treize asked the woman for a glass of iced tea and settled back into his chair as she turned away, regarding Quatre with a friendly but detached air. "Forgive me for being so forward as to invite myself to your table, but I saw you across the bazaar and was struck by how very familiar you seem."  
  
Quatre smiled and extended his hand in greeting. "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner," He told Treize, warmly, "And yes, before you ask, we have met before."  
  
"At that dreadful party on L4...Yes I remember it now. That was ages ago, wasn't it?"   
  
Quatre took a sip of his lemonade before smiling at the other man. "I'm flattered that you remember me--I was only a child at the time. I'm sure I must look much different, by now."  
  
He felt Treize's appraising glace as it slid over his body, and a tiny flicker of interest passed across those eyes. "Yes, you do. You have grown into quite a handsome young man, Quatre. But your eyes are just the same." He only just now relinquished Quatre's hand, trailing his thumb lightly across the back of it as it slid from his grasp. "I think it is they that set you apart...I have never seen anything quite like them, really."  
  
/oh you smooth talker, you./ Quatre thought, wryly, with an internal chuckle. /Doesn't he move awfully fast...especially considering I'm a good ten years younger than he is./  
  
Outwardly, though, he allowed himself a blush and a shy smile. "Why, thank you, Colonel Khushrenada." The other man raised his eyebrows just a bit at that, and Quatre's smile broadened. "You see," he murmured, "I remember you, too."  
  
Treize beamed at him across the table. "Then I, too, am flattered. And please, call me Treize." His voice suddenly dropped into a curious tone. "But I can't help but wonder what the heir to the House of Winner is doing in a place such as this."  
  
"Drinking lemonade," Quatre replied innocently, with a little smile. Treize chuckled at that for a moment, before Quatre continued. "The honest truth...well, it sounds a little silly and juvenile coming from one of my station, but I ran away from home."  
  
Treize's eyes widened. "Why ever would you do that?" He asked, a hint of concern slipping into his voice. The waitress arrived with his tea, but his eyes never left their lock with Quatre's. He picked up the spoon and stirred it idly as he waited for Quatre's reply.  
  
/Got him./ Quatre thought, triumphantly, but on the outside, he shook his head. "There were several reasons - of which a long standing dispute with my father was the strongest."  
  
"I hate to pry," Treize said, softly, "But do you mind if I ask...?"  
  
Quatre smiled ruefully and shrugged his shoulders in a calculatedly adorable gesture. "He caught me in bed with one of the servants."   
  
There was a little clatter of metal on glass Treize's spoon slipped from his fingers and tumbled back into his drink. "Oh," he said, his eyes a little wide, and then he smiled. "I certainly hope she was worth it."  
  
It was all Quatre could do to keep from laughing out loud. "/He/ certainly was." He replied, resisting the urge to accompany his words with a playful wink. He was going for sweet and unconsciously seductive, after all. He had found it worked especially well with such well bred, military types. Just enough innocence to throw off suspicion, and just enough corruption to make it interesting. "But enough about that...Why are you here? I had heard that you rarely liked to leave Luxemburg, when you don't have to."  
  
Treize shook his head. "I don't know who told you that, but I fear that they are mistaken. I love to travel, when I can. It is my duty that keeps me bound to one place." He took a long drink of his tea and sighed, eyes shut in the bliss of cold drink on a hot day. "As for why I am here...There have been reports of rebel activity in the area, and I felt that if it were my Specials who extinguished this threat, perhaps we might gain some status in the eyes of the old guard." He smiled conspiratorially at Quatre. "You see, they think I'm an uppity little boy promoted to far above my own head. A spoiled aristocratic brat."  
  
"Oh, no...That's all wrong. I've only just met you and I can see that." Treize smiled at his apparent outrage. "But tell me, Treize - these rebels...are they dangerous?"  
  
Quatre was on autopilot now, the majority of his mind calculating risk factors and planning escape routes. How long exactly did he have to get the Maganac out of the area? In their current state, they were no match for the Alliance Specials.   
  
"Dangerous? My, yes. But you should have nothing to worry about. This particular group seems only to target production facilities and the like...there is nothing to indicate that they would be inclined to attack a civilian population."  
  
/Why, thank you./ Quatre thought as he registered that comment. /Perhaps we're getting through to them after all. At least our reputation has not been overly distorted./  
  
He heaved a relieved sigh and pressed a hand to his chest as if his heart had been fluttering in fear. "I'm so glad. But surely you could manage to stop them, even if they were. I don't know much about such things, but I've heard that your Specials are all fantastic soldiers." Treize smiled at the complement and took a sip of his drink, nodding. "But tell me, when are you moving in on them...I should think I would like to be as far away as possible."  
  
"I am meeting an informant tonight. Until I get a better idea about their location and capabilities, I won't be able to make a proper plan of attack."  
  
/Tonight. They have to be gone by tonight./ Quatre frowned cutely and dropped his spoon onto the table, as if in frustration. "Well that stops /that/." He muttered.   
  
"Stops what?"   
  
Quatre looked up from under his bangs, a little sheepishly. "I was hoping you would join me for dinner, tonight. I've been eating alone for an awfully long time."  
  
A sly sort of smile slipped across Treize's features. "Well, I'm not meeting the man until eight O'clock...so perhaps an early dinner."  
  
Quatre pouted and crossed his arms, looking down at the table. "Forget it. It was silly..."  
  
Treize reached out a hand to rest soothingly on Quatre's wrist. "No. I would like that very much, Quatre."  
  
/Ching ching!/ Quatre's mind called triumphantly. /Hook, line and sinker./  
  
"I-I...Thank you." he stuttered, blushing hotly and staring at the hand on his arm. "That's very kind of you, but--"  
  
"I insist," Treize murmured. His voice lowered into a sort of purr that sent shivers he didn't quite have to fake thrilling down his spine. Treize stood slowly, tossing a handful of credit chips carelessly onto the table and extending his hand to help Quatre up.  
  
/Such a gentleman/ Quatre thought, sarcastically, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, his chest merely inches away from Treize's. He slowly lifted his face, breathing a little heavy and locking eyes with Treize. "I should go change..."  
  
"You look fantastic," Treize protested.   
  
"But I'm such a mess...I've been shopping all day and I'm covered in dirt. I really need to take a quick shower...If you don't mind."  
  
Treize shook his head. "I don't mind at all. Should I wait for you here, or..?"  
  
Quatre smiled, sheepishly. "My flat is just up the road, a ways. And it's considerably cooler than it is out here. If you would rather come with me..."  
  
Treize smiled. "Shall we go?"  
  
Quatre nodded and started forward, 'innocently' brushing against Treize as he slid past the older man. As he walked, he passed the boy who had brought him his lemonade, and he winked. The boy smiled back.  
  
/To bad I'll be leaving town so soon/ he thought, regretfully, and turned out onto the street, with Treize just a matter of steps behind him.  
  
  
  
  
The apartment was small, but well kept, tastefully decorated in pale cream and a dark shade of green that Quatre was especially fond of. As he and Treize stepped inside, he walked towards the kitchen table where his laptop sat. "Just let me make the reservations," He called over his shoulder. "The restroom is on the right, there, if you want a chance at it before I shower."  
  
Treize disappeared around the corner. Quatre waited for the click of the door locking before he quickly dialed a connection.  
  
After a few moments, Auda's smiling face appeared on the vidscreen. "Master Quatre!" He cried, happily, before Quatre could shush him."  
  
"Quiet, Auda, this is an emergency. There's a Colonel from the Alliance on your tail. You have to be out of the area /tonight./ I'll try to stall him but..."   
  
Rashid's face appeared over Auda's shoulder, and he pushed the man away. "Thank you for the warning, Master Quatre. This is twice you may have saved us all. We are in your debt."  
  
Quatre rolled his eyes and shook his hands in frustration. "Don't thank me, Rashid, just get moving! I don't know how long I can keep him here!"  
  
Rashid frowned, even as he motioned behind him at unseen members of the fighting unit to begin packing the suits away. "He's there with you? At your apartment?" His face became stern and somewhat fatherly as it suddenly dawned on him what his young commander was planning. "Quatre, you don't have to-"   
  
"Yes I do." Quatre interrupted. "Now get going." Rashid didn't move. He simply stood there, glaring at Quatre for a moment before his face slipped into a resigned expression. "I wish you wouldn't."  
  
Quatre smiled, reassuringly. "Don't worry about me, Rashid. It could be worse. It could have been someone like Septem." He gave a little shudder for comic effect and reached for the button that would sever the connection. Before he could press it, though, Rashid sighed and interrupted.   
  
"Don't do anything you don't feel is absolutely necessary. Promise me that."  
  
Quatre smiled apologetically and pushed the button.   
  
It only took him a moment to reserve a table at the little restaurant a few blocks away that he had grown so fond of in the last few weeks. He finished just as the door opened and Treize emerged from the restroom.   
  
"It's all yours," he said as he passed as he approached Quatre's chair. He leaned close over the back of it, his breath brushing Quatre's hair.   
  
Quatre smiled at him and lightly touched his arm. "Make yourself at home...I'll only be a minute." He slipped away just as Treize leaned forward a little, leaving the other man alone in the kitchen as he all but skipped down the hall and into the bathroom.  
  
"Take your time," he heard him call as he started the water.  
  
/Oh, I will,/ Quatre snickered to himself. /We still have four hours to kill./ This was certainly turning out to be an interesting mission. The idea of his seducing this man might have worried Rashid, but it didn't bother him in the least. Perhaps if they had met in other circumstances, he would have still done the same. Treize was really quite good looking, and he had a strange sort of magnetic charm. Besides...It had been ages since Quatre had gotten a good lay.   
  
/So, how do I play this?/ he pondered, as he shucked the last of his clothes and stepped into he cool spray. /Slowly, for certain. That's the entire point of all this. But it can't be so slow that he decides it can wait./   
  
What Quatre needed was a perfect balance between teasing and fulfillment. Treize had to know that he would do as his actions promised. At the same time, perhaps it would be best to let Treize do the seducing. At least the conscious part of it, anyway.  
  
Yes...Passive-aggressive was definitely the order of the day. He smiled at the thought as the rinsed the sand from his hair. He could do passive-aggressive. He could do it well.  
  
  
  
Quatre stepped from the bathroom and into the hallway, a pale green towel wrapped about his waist. Instead of turning to his bedroom on the right, he continued on towards the kitchen, passing through the living room where Treize sat to get there. He walked quickly, as if embarrassed to be seen in this state of undress. "Excuse me..." he murmured, blushing sheepishly as he saw Treize eyeing his body. He even gave a nervous little laugh. "I forgot to take my dress slacks out of the drier..." He felt the heat of his blush spread all the way down to his chest as Treize stood, stepping towards him. Quickly he turned and dashed into the kitchen, scooping his clothes out of the tiny dryer in the corner.   
  
"I would have gotten those for you," Treize offered. Quatre turned to find him standing in the doorway, watching him closely.   
  
"I didn't want to bother you..." Quatre protested. He walked towards the door and attempted to squeeze by under Treize's arm. "I should go get dressed...we'll be late if I don't hurry."  
  
He felt Treize brush soft fingertips down his side and he halted in his steps, his breath catching in his throat. "We can be a little late...We'll just have to rush dinner, a little."   
  
"I'd hate to rush anything," Quatre replied, softly. Treize chuckled and leaned closer, pressing his lips into the crook of Quatre's throat as his hand slipped a little lower to the top of the towel. Quatre shuddered and pressed back, feeling the material of the towel rubbing against his sensitive skin in an interesting way. Treize's lips slid up the column of his throat to capture his own. He licked Quatre's lips seductively as he dropped his hand even lower, pulling the towel down until the points of Quatre's hips were exposed.   
  
"We don't have to rush the...important things," he murmured against Quatre's lips. His other hand was on Quatre's thigh, now, sliding slowly upward underneath the towel. "In fact, to tell you the truth...I'm not really that hungry. Maybe we should just order in."  
  
Quatre pulled back and stepped away, nearly loosing his towel as it caught on Treize's hand. "But I made reservations..." He protested. "Just give me one moment."   
  
With that, he headed towards the bedroom, half hoping that Treize would follow and press the issue.   
  
/Slow down, Quatre,/ he chided himself. /This doesn't work if you get carried away. You're stalling, remember?/ Quatre grinned to himself as he shut the door and began to dress. /this is definitely the best mission that I've ever had./  
  
  
  
  
The Hand of Fatima was a tiny little place, run by a middle aged man and his two daughters. The owner was there to greet Quatre and Treize as they entered the building, waving them towards the back room table where Quatre usually sat. Quatre ordered for the both of them as he settled into the booth opposite his 'date'. Treize was watching him rather intensely, so he blushed and took a drink of his water. "What?" He asked, faking self-consciousness he did not feel.  
  
"You're beautiful," Treize said, his face perfectly serious.  
  
/If he weren't responsible for the deaths of thousands, I would almost feel guilty for doing this to him,/ Quatre thought with a twinge of sadness. /He seems so earnest./   
  
"Thank you," Quatre murmured, dropping his gaze to the tabletop. Treize reached across the table to tip his head upwards.   
  
"Don't hide your eyes like that. It's like covering the sun."  
  
/He's good.../ Quatre smiled and blushed an even deeper red, but did not look away this time. "Have you been enjoying your time in this country?" He asked, obviously changing the subject on purpose.  
  
"It was frightfully dull until I met you," Treize replied, refusing to be dissuaded from his goal. His fingers traced a path down Quatre's throat to rest on the collar of his shirt, and his eyes followed the trail. Quatre swallowed, convulsively, and Treize smiled. "However...I am enjoying myself immensely, now."  
  
"Are you staying very long after you take care of your business?" Quatre asked. He let his eyes slide shut and leaned into the caress as it drifted back up to his cheek.   
  
"I wasn't planning to, no." Quatre frowned, and he chuckled. "I think I may change my mind, shortly. What do you say, Quatre. Do you think you can convince me to stay?"  
  
Quatre's eyes drifted open and he turned to press a little kiss to Treize's fingertips. "I can try, I suppose," He whispered, seemingly unsure of himself.  
  
"I have the utmost faith in you." Treize murmured, encouragingly. "And I think I shall need only the barest of convincing. You may have done it already."  
  
"Oh, I hope so," Quatre whispered. "It would be nice to have some company."   
  
"I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stay long. If our campaign goes as I have hoped, then I shall likely be recalled to Luxemburg for recognition." He smiled as if a wonderful idea had just occurred to him. "Perhaps you could accompany me?"  
  
Quatre smiled, and then frowned. "I couldn't." Though it might have been nice...he would be at the seat of the Specials unit, in the bed and in the confidences of the greatest commander in the Alliance military.   
  
Treize took Quatre's hand in his own. "Why ever not? I would love to have you as my guest."  
  
"...My father...Someone would recognize me," He said, not untruthfully. There were, of course, other factors to the decision. It would be very difficult to command a field unit from within the OZ headquarters. All communications were surely bugged. And besides...he would miss his companions.   
  
So he shook his head. "I'm sorry. Court life isn't for me, Treize. I fled from it, remember?"  
  
Treize chuckled, and then sighed, "That is truly a shame."   
  
Just then, the waitress arrived with a platter of food and a bottle of wine. She bowed politely at the pair, and then when Treize wasn't looking in her direction, smiled mischievously at Quatre. "Cute one," she mouthed, with a little wink. Quatre nodded.  
  
"What's so funny?" Treize asked, when he lifted his eyes to find Quatre grinning.   
  
/Ooops./ "Nothing, really. I'm just having a wonderful time!" /Nice save.../ His smile mellowed a little and he reached out to capture Treize's hand. "But I wish you didn't have to rush off, so quickly, after dinner."   
  
Treize seemed to accept that. He smiled softly and retrieved his hand to pour himself a glass of wine. When he reached for Quatre's glass, however, it was pulled away.   
  
"I don't drink," Quatre explained. "Muslim, you know. In fact, I'm surprised they serve it hear at all." It was as good an excuse as any. Quatre was hardly a devout Muslim...the 'sleeping with other men' thing sort of threw that off...but Treize didn't have to know that. How exactly would he have explained the /real/ reason he avoided alcohol to his quarry? He didn't drink because it clouds the senses. It puts one off guard. He could hardly afford that, tonight of all nights. As a soldier of the rebellion, he had to be alert at all times.  
  
He hoped his explanation to Treize would be just a little endearing...And make him seem all the more naive. Perhaps he was playing it a little heavy, but Treize seemed to be eating it up. Perhaps a little more...?  
  
"Ooo...That looks delicious!" He exclaimed, pointing at Treize's plate. "Could I have just a little taste?"  
  
Treize obligingly scooped a little of his dinner up in his spoon and leaned across the table. Quatre closed his mouth around the spoon and drew back, slowly, his eyes drifting half-closed as he hummed his contentment.   
  
"Good?" Treize asked. Under the table, his leg rubbed against Quatre's, pressing gently in a teasing stroke. When Quatre nodded, he picked up a piece of fruit from his plate -a slice of nectarine- and held it out for Quatre to sample. "Perhaps another taste, then?"  
  
Quatre closed his eyes and wrapped his mouth around the fruit - and Treize's fingertips. He sucked a little at the sticky juice before drawing the morsel into his mouth with his tongue.  
  
He heard a little hiss from Treize's direction and opened his eyes. The other man was staring at him raptly, his attention completely absorbed in the moment. After a few seconds, however, he stood, tossing his napkin onto the table. "Check please," He called, looking around.   
  
Quatre smiled.  
  
  
  
  
The door to the apartment burst open and Quatre tumbled inside, dropping his keys carelessly onto the floor. Treize followed just a moment later, kicking the door shut behind him as he pulled Quatre around to meet his mouth in a hungry kiss. The pair stumbled blindly into the living room, all but collapsing on the couch. At the last moment, Quatre twisted so that he was astride Treize's lap. The kiss continued on, growing more and more heated as Treize's hands slipped down his backside, caressing the tops of his thighs and then drifting to the small of his back, his hips... Then back to his waist, again, working the thin material of Quatre's shirt loose from the top of his pants, slipping underneath to the heated skin there.   
  
Quatre gasped as Treize rocked up against him, and he pressed his hips down against the other man's, arching his back. He tossed his head back, and Treize went to work on the exposed column of his throat, pulling forth a trembling moan that echoed from deep within Quatre's chest.   
  
One hand came up to tangle in Quatre's hair, and he kissed the wrist without opening his eyes. Feeling the cool metal of Treize's watchband against his cheek, he risked a little peek. 7:35. No wonder he was in such a hurry.  
  
"You said we wouldn't have to rush," Quatre panted as Treize attacked his throat again. "Or were you talking about dinner?"  
  
Without warning, Quatre found himself on his back, staring up at Treize's flushed and panting face. His lips were captured almost fiercely in a kiss that left him breathless and wanting more...For a moment, he almost forgot why he was so intent on stretching this out. His body was ready /now/, and it was going against his nature not to give in to it. But this was a mission. An important one. His friends- No. His /family/- were in danger.  
  
He skillfully took control of the kiss, sucking languorously at Treize's tongue, forcing him to slow down as he captured those roving hands and held them in his own. "You promised..." He whispered, putting on his best hurt and pitiful face.  
  
Treize shook his head. "I'm /sorry/ Quatre, but I have a meeting. It's very important to the Alliance...I can't just skip it." He leaned in for another kiss, but Quatre turned his face away, pushing a little at Treize's shoulder.   
  
"Let me up then," He ordered. "You can come back when you finish, and then we can take our time."  
  
Silently, Treize allowed Quatre to squirm out from under him and gain his feet. For a moment, Quatre feared that his plan had backfired... That he should have waited until they were further along to drop his ultimatum. He could almost /see/ the gears turning in Treize's head as he weighed the opportunity costs...If he left now, it was likely that the two of them might never meet again. After the reconnaissance was gathered, he would be forced to act immediately, before the circumstances changed. And, if he were successful, it was back home to Luxemburg for all the military pomp and circumstance. Now would be his only chance.   
  
Treize smiled, just a little, and Quatre had to stop himself from heaving a sigh of relief. It had worked.  
  
"Well... We can't be /too/ long...But I'm sure my man won't mind I'm a little late."  
  
"That's more like it," Quatre murmured with a smile. He turned and started walking towards the bedroom, toeing off his shoes as he went.  
  
By the time Treize caught up with him in the hall, he had shaken his vest from his shoulders and let if fall carelessly to the floor. Quatre felt strong arms encircle his waist, and then Treize's hands were tugging at his belt, planting soft kisses at the base of his throat all the while. "You want to take this slow?" He asked.  
  
Quatre nodded, and dropped his head back to give the other man better access. His belt fell to the floor, and then the hands started on the buttons of his shirt.   
  
"I'll show you slow," Treize whispered, in an erotic threat. "By the end of tonight, you'll be begging me to let you come."  
  
"Yes..." Quatre hissed. He could feel Treize's erection pressing into the small of his back. "That's exactly how I want it." He reached over his shoulder and tangled a hand in Treize's hair, tugging him forward for a breathless kiss. "Make me beg" He whispered.   
  
Treize growled into the kiss and nipped a little at his lips. He turned Quatre to face him, deepening the kiss, walking him backwards through the door and to the bed. When Quatre felt the backs of his thighs impact the side of the bed, he sat down, bringing himself level with Treize's groin. He leaned forward just a little and brushed his cheek across Treize's thigh, breathing hotly through the material of his pants. Above him, he heard Treize hum appreciatively as he dropped his hands to Quatre's shoulders, steadying himself as he pressed forward.   
  
Quatre chuckled, and he felt Treize shudder as the vibration traveled through his system. "Slow," He whispered. He scooted backward on the bed until he could lay back on pillows.  
  
It took a moment for Treize's eyes to focus. When they did, they fixed on Quatre with an intensity that made his resolve weaken. "Slow," he whispered again, just as much a reminder to himself as it was to Treize.   
  
"Slow," Treize whispered back with a wicked smile. He lowered himself onto the bed and crawled up it until he was looming over Quatre, his eyes dark with passion. He leaned close for a tantalizing kiss.  
  
/Eight O'clock and all is well!/ sang some crazy, detached part of his brain. He would have giggled if his mouth had not been otherwise occupied.   
  
  
  
  
12:49. Treize blinked at the digital readout of the clock beside the bed. 12:49. Had that much time really passed? He hadn't meant to fall asleep...but Quatre had quite thoroughly worn him out. How was he supposed to explain this to his informant?  
  
Treize rolled over on bed and did his best to disentangle himself from Quatre's stubborn limbs. "Wake up, love," he whispered. When the boy simply smiled and snuggled deeper, Treize resorted to more desperate tactics. He pulled himself closer and planted a searing kiss on Quatre's slightly open lips, doing his best imitation of the handsome prince from Sleeping Beauty.   
  
It worked. Quatre awoke and reciprocated the kiss fully without even opening his eyes. "Morning already?" he mumbled as Treize pulled away.   
  
"No, Quatre, it's-" He glanced to the clock again, "-12:55. But I need to go, just the same. I have to see if I can track down my informant."   
  
Quatre pouted grumpily and wrapped his arm more tightly around Treize's waist. "You're just going to leave, like that?" He asked.   
  
"I'll be back," Treize reassured him.   
  
"Sure you will..." Quatre mumbled. "Fine. Okay. Go." He let go of Treize and rolled over to face the wall.  
  
"Quatre..."  
  
"No. Just go. I know that this was just a one night stand for you, Treize. I think you should leave now before I get any more attached to you."   
  
Quatre's voice sounded hurt and angry, and it ripped Treize to the core. In this moment, Quatre seemed so young and vulnerable...and Treize hated himself for taking advantage of that. "I'm sorry," he whispered.  
  
"Just go," Quatre whispered back, into the darkness. He lay perfectly still, listening quietly as Treize's hesitant footsteps withdrew from the room. There were pauses here and there as he collected his clothing, dressing in silence. After a few long, tense minutes, Quatre heard the door of the apartment finally click shut.   
  
In a flash, he was out of the bed, dressing hurriedly and yanking a pair of bags from the top of the closet.   
  
  
  
  
"I don't understand, sir…" The young sergeant sputtered as he stared into the miles of sand that stretched towards the horizon. "They were here just a matter of hours ago…" He was dressed in a rather poorly assembled Specials uniform, his shirt half tucked and the buttons mismatched. Then again, it was hardly his fault that his commander had yanked him from sleep at one in the morning and ordered to be led out into the barren waste that surrounded the city. He was lucky that his shoes matched.   
  
The two men were standing in the middle of a broad expanse of sand, empty of all but the barest signs of life. It was dark out, but by the light of the stars Treize was just barely able to make out the bits of debris that littered the ground of what was obviously once a campsite. A crumpled sheet of newspaper blew across the sand on a gust of wind and came to rest against the side of his boot. Treize down at it with frustration, and then kicked it roughly away.  
  
"Where are they?" He demanded, striding forcefully across the sand to an empty fire pit, touching his hand to the cooling ash. "They haven't been gone for long…I want them tracked and found. Before sunrise. "  
  
"I-Sir, forgive me," the young officer protested, "But I don't think that's possible. The wind's been bad all night…Look around- Do you see any footprints? Tread marks?  
  
Treize bowed his head and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. He let out a rough sigh and then turned sharply, striding past the young sergeant and back to the jeep.   
  
"Where are you going, sir?" The officer called.   
  
"Back to bed," Treize muttered. "I am beginning to think that perhaps I should have stayed there."  
  
  
  
  
When Treize reached the apartment door he found it unlocked, just as he had left it, and smiled. At least Quatre hadn't locked him out… He quietly pushed it open and stepped inside, shutting it carefully behind him. He made his way slowly, half by feel and half by memory, through the darkened hall to the bedroom door, which swung open easily under his touch.   
  
"I told you I would be back," He whispered, approaching the bed. When there was no answer, he moved a little closer and raised his voice a little. "Change of plans. I think I'll be staying in the city a little longer than expected."  
  
There was no answer this time, either. Treize smiled affectionately and shook his head. Sound sleepers had always amazed him…he had been in the army too long for that luxury. He crouched low and reached out for Quatre's shoulder, to wake him.  
  
His hand met only the smooth linen of the bedspread.   
  
Treize fumbled for the bedside lamp, throwing the room into sharp illumination. The drawers of the little dresser on which the lamp rested had been emptied and tossed onto the floor against the wall. The closet doors were wide, revealing that it held nothing but a few hangers and a crumpled yellow sock.   
  
The bed was the worst, though. Empty, and made up as perfectly as if they had not lain here mere hours before, lost in pleasure and each other's bodies. In the center of the coverlet lay a single, striking, blue rose, its petals only just beginning to open. Beneath it lay a neatly folded sheet of paper.   
  
Treize picked up the flower and pressed it to his lips for just a moment before opening the note.  
  
Treize,  
  
I sincerely hope you don't take this situation too   
personally - I assure you that insult and injury   
were not my intent. Surely, as a commander   
yourself, you can understand.   
  
The safety of my men counts for far more than my  
own petty desires.   
  
I wish that I could tell you of how I look forward   
to our next meeting, for though I am quite certain   
that we shall meet again, I fear it will not be under   
such pleasant circumstances.   
  
My apologies to you for the deception. I truly hope   
that you don't think the worst of me because of it.   
  
Quatre   
  
  
  
The paper fell from his fingertips and fluttered to the floor. A wash of impotent anger swept over his consciousness…but quickly subsided. He laughed, a warm, amused chuckle.   
  
"Quite the accomplished actor," He murmured, pressing the rose to his lips again. This boy - his little Quatre - the commander of the rebel Maganac corps? His admiration for the young man swelled past simple infatuation and into respect. He was a talented leader. And very skilled.   
  
And very dedicated. Treize sighed. Oh well. At least the trip had not been a total loss. Clutching the rose tightly in his hand, he turned smartly and walked from the room, headed back to the shuttleport that would take him home to Luxemburg and the disappointed, scornful gaze of his fellows.   
  
In his mind, he was imagining a time in the future when he and this young rebel might meet again. Perhaps he might be captured. That thought brought a wistful smile to his lips. Captured by the Alliance, helpless...and entirely at his mercy. That was certainly a possibility that he could look forward to.   
  
END  



End file.
